The Edge

The Edge is a rusty blade that rests against the gears within me.  Most of the time the blade stays in place, slowly churning with the movement of the gears.  Sometimes it jumps off the track of a gear momentarily, causing a nick here and there, or a grinding screech, but quickly settles back into place against the next gear.  Every once in a while, though, the blade jumps violently off its gear and swings erratically in front of or behind the gears, sometimes with such force that the blade crosses the boundary of the core, the center space where the blade must never penetrate.  There is no threat of this happening when the blade remains against the gear or just jumps slightly off track momentarily. There is pain, but it is bearable.  However, when the blade jumps completely off the gear track and swings freely within me, the pain is so great and the slicing so deep that I panic in desperation to slow it down to a speed that makes it possible to nudge it back onto the track of a gear. As it swings, it slices, which is painful enough in and of itself, but it is when the momentum of the swinging blade persistently and continuously crosses into the center of me, momentarily slicing and blocking and filling up the core that causes the most damage.  The boundary of the core needs air and light; it needs to remain open and free at all times.  That is why there are gears, to keep moving parts away from that center core.  Only that which is potentially eternal and necessary can claim space in the core, and such things are fragile and vulnerable and easily destroyed by the slices of the rusty blade.

The desperation to stop the swinging blade comes from the fear of losing those core pieces that are housed in the center, of losing the potentially eternal gains I’ve made in this life.  These things are extremely precious and hard to attain… yet easy to lose before becoming truly eternal and permanently embedded in my soul.  That which remains in the core when I leave this life is all I can take with me.  If the blade destroys even one of these things, it affects my journey, my fate, my path.   

Sometimes I think of the Edge as my depression, for this has the power to destroy the spiritual truths I have learned and am working to refine in this life so that they might become eternal. 

My depression is destructive because it causes me to forget that there is meaning and purpose in everything that happens in life.  It convinces me that there is more pain and heartache in life than joy and contentment, therefore it forces me ask myself why I bother to stick it out for however many years I have left.  It tries to convince me that it would be easier to start over, and fresh.  It injects boredom into everything I do, especially those things that I love and need.  It blocks out many of the hundreds and thousands of tiny moments of enlightenment that come over the course of a day, a week, a month, a year.  It makes me feel heavy and cold and hateful, irritable and impatient and cynical.  And once it has destroyed all the truths I once held within me, it convinces me that the work required to regain such truths is too much, too long, too painful. 

Sometimes I think of the Edge as my addiction, because this is the most vulnerable part of who I am.  It feels as if my addiction has this same power to wipe out the spiritual truths within my soul or my core because my addiction is the fastest route to depression.

My addiction is cunning and subtle and, unlike depression itself, extremely attractive.  The feeling of momentary escape, the thought of being high is never something I abhor or don’t long for, even when my active addiction is dormant.  When my recovery is strong, when my bank is full, when my tools are arranged and visible, when I can clearly see what is beyond that initial satisfaction of the longing, when my center is overflowing with potential eternal truths ready for refinement, the longing to get high is further in the background, but still there, always there. 

When the Edge blade is methodically turning on the gears, the deep longing is manageable and distant.  When the blade jumps its track and quickly finds it again, these are the times I draw on what it within that core to fight back the longing.  But it is when the blade has jumped the track and swung so far out of alignment that the gears cannot recapture it – it is at these times that the damage to the spiritual truths in the core is extensive.  It is at these times that the deep longing to alter my mind, my brain, my very self, is nearly impossible to resist. 

And this is the Edge.  This is the cause of the desperation.  This is what I am unsure how to fight.  This is the answer I seek, always: What do I do to put the blade back onto the gears before the destruction is extensive… or total?  

I’m Maze. I’m an addict.